Friend
by writerofberk
Summary: In which Quasimodo and Phoebus both want the same thing, and have a long overdue discussion. One-shot. Set before the second film.


**Friend**

 **A/N: I just finished rewatching Disney's Hunchback of Notre Dame for like the millionth time, and I repeat my earlier statements: it is my favorite Disney movie ever, and not even Treasure Planet, amazing as it was, will change my mind. I've always really wanted to write something for Hunchback, but I'm kind of nervous. The film is just such a beautiful, unforgettable story that I was truly worried I wouldn't do it justice. I know I can't really write Esmeralda that well, especially, mostly because she's a very unexpected character, you know? There's just some sort of quality to her, something about her that's very unpredictable and exciting, and I admire her a lot. She's my favorite animated heroine, hands down :) Actually...I think she's my favorite heroine period, animated or not.**

 **Anyway, since I suck at writing Esmeralda, I decided my first attempt should be something about her without demanding the inclusion of her character; so, Phoebus and Quasimodo have a quick discussion regarding the relationship between them :) The romantic triangle of Esmeralda-Quasimodo-Phoebus was actually my least favorite part of the film when I first watched it, and Phoebus my least favorite character. He rubbed me in all the wrong ways, and I just couldn't help feeling that he was kind of smarmy and overconfident. But now, that overconfidence of his is a quality I love, and I love him just as much as I love the other two. And I don't view it as a triangle so much anymore, and I'm not trying to make it seem like, oh, poor Quasimodo, denied the woman he loves or anything like that. Quasimodo's quiet acceptance of his role to her was my favorite bit in the movie, or at least it used to be. Now I have other favorite things, but that's still one of them. I just love how he respected her decision, you know? Just damn. This film. I mean. How to Train Your Dragon is still my favorite, but this is a very close second. Anyway, I just wanted to do something exploring Phoebus and Quasimodo's relationship, and since this didn't call for Esmeralda's actual appearance, I figured it'd be a great attempt for my first HoND fic.**

* * *

Quasimodo was not sure he would ever get used to the marked absence of Frollo's dry, uncaring voice filling his ears; he was not sure whether he would ever get used to people, gypsies mostly, approaching him in the middle of a crowded, narrow street for no reason other than to speak with him. He was not sure he would ever get used to people who looked right at him, and yet never flinched away. And he was not sure he would ever stop expecting somebody to call him a monster.

The bell-tower was left empty by everyone but the man himself, who still insisted on ringing the bells religiously every morning. He slept within the bell-tower's airy, stone confines; he took his meals up in the tower, for this was the way he had done things for twenty years and he saw no reason to stir up trouble and inconvenience anyone now. It was a lonely, solitary routine he had created for himself, yet it was a familiar one; the only thing out of the ordinary was the occasional visit from Esmeralda and her faithful goat.

So it follows that Quasimodo was exactly where he had been for the last twenty years: up in his bell-tower. The gargoyles – particularly Hugo – had been very enthusiastically attempting to "help" him clean the bells, and as a result, the man was now knee-deep in water and suds, sponge in hand as he muttered good-naturedly about the stone figures under his breath.

The light tap on the door behind him had him wishing he was at least wearing dry clothes. He bolted to his feet and turned expectantly to the door – perhaps Esmeralda had found time, in between all her activities, to call upon him twice this week! It would be wonderful if she had.

But no.

He flushed upon seeing who was in the doorway, turning away to go back to his scrubbing. He liked to think he had worked out his differences with the captain, but his heart still wrenched when he thought of the man touching Esmeralda, kissing her…resentment welled within him, hard as he tried to suppress it. Simply because he had been denied her did not mean he ought to wish Phoebus had been, too.

"Um…hello?" The other man slowly entered the room, looking around in not a bit of wonder or awe – it was clear he had never seen quite so many grand bells before. "Q-Quasimodo?" The name left his lips rather awkwardly.

Well, the bell-ringer decided resignedly, he could not ignore Phoebus forever. Turning reluctantly to face him, dropping the sponge into the water bucket on his way up, the man grunted, "Hello."

Phoebus looked pleased. "Hello, there."

Quasimodo grunted again, wordlessly this time.

"I was just coming to speak with you," the captain pressed, stepping farther into the room. "May I?" It was clear from the sudden wavering note in his voice that this was a man who was not used to asking permission.

Quasimodo shrugged. "Sure." His voice, he realized, sounded uninviting. And Esmeralda, hard as it was to believe, was in love with this man. So he reluctantly cleared his throat and tried again. "There's a seat at the table." He gestured in the general direction of the spot where he routinely ate his meals, picking up his sponge again. "Do you mind if I work while you talk?"

"Alright." The captain sounded surprised when he responded. "That's alright, I guess. I just think you'll want to hear what I have to say."

 _I think I won't,_ Quasimodo thought resentfully to himself, but he lowered himself into his seat anyway – the one he had always occupied when Frollo was alive. The other seat was grander and higher than his, as if to emphasize the difference in worth between them – somehow, the bell-ringer thought it fitting that the captain, the man who had won Esmeralda's affections, sat in the seat now, too. They did not need a chair to show the difference in value.

Phoebus appeared extremely hesitant, for a minute or two, before he evidently found his words, and began to speak. "You know I want to marry Esmeralda."

Quasimodo felt something within him tighten. He had promised himself he would not interfere when this time came, as it inevitably would – but then, he had not known that Phoebus would do something like this, either. They _had_ worked out their differences, he thought. Was the captain really to be so cruel as to deny him the one true pleasure his life currently held? Was he really to demand of Quasimodo to stay away from his woman from now on? And what ought he to do? Ought he to speak up now, and ruin this for Esmeralda, when he had accepted long ago that she loved another? No. He mustn't be selfish. He would agree. For Esmeralda.

"I'm aware."

"And…I wanted to speak with you about it before the proposal."

Quasimodo lowered his gaze to the grooved wooden table. Here it was. The demand. And he would do nothing to stop it. He would allow his only human friend to be removed from his life and—and—

"I just wanted to ask your…your…feelings on this." By the face the captain made, it was evident he was not enjoying the discussion.

But this was something Quasimodo had not expected at all. Why should Phoebus care how he felt? "What?"

"Me…and Esmeralda." The captain blew out a breath as he spoke the woman's name. "I know you care for her. I just want to be sure there are to be no…" the man paused here, trying to locate the right word. "… _Difficult_ feelings between us. Esmeralda cares for you very deeply – and I don't want to put her through the trials of a feuding friend and a feuding lover. I would just like to be absolutely clear. Will you despise me if I marry her?"

A million thoughts raced through the bell-ringer's mind at this last question. He could give as many answers, he thought. This man wanted to marry the only woman he had ever loved, and for a moment, he did not think he could live with that. He wanted to deny the captain the privilege of a simple marriage, a simple love…the captain did not deserve simplicity. His whole life had been simplicity. Jealousy tore at Quasimodo's soul, ripping through him with more force than a sharp arrow. He would not despise the captain if he married Esmeralda – he already despised him, because he had everything he wanted, and he, Quasimodo, would forever be denied the touch of the one woman whose touch he desired and…and…

His thoughts sputtered to a halt. He could not be so selfish. He could not put the woman he loved through this. He could put the captain through this.

He chose his words slowly, speaking as a man who has only just learned how.

"I want Esmeralda…" Yes, this was truth, and he could see something hardening in the other's blue eyes. "…To be happy." And this was truer still. "Even if…it's not me that makes her happy."

The man's hard blue eyes widened, then softened. "You…you mean this?"

"I know you'll give her everything she wants." Quasimodo swallowed with some difficulty. "And I'll try my hardest to treat you as a friend."

The captain jumped up from his spot, evidently quite pleased. "Thank you," he said briskly, reaching out to shake the other's hand. For a minute, they stood together, hands clasped, and something resembling a smile crossed both faces. "Friend."


End file.
